


break through

by Nyxierose



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the end of 1x12 goes a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	break through

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Would you considering writing an alternate ending to their fight in 1x12? Where Jessica doesn't have to shoot him and Luke manages to break free of Kilgrave's control." [(x)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5400269/comments/48586483)
> 
> Hope this is what you wanted, dove, or at least somewhere close.

She knew this could happen, but damned if she isn't still just a little bit disappointed.

"No one is immune." The phrase echoes in her head as she runs, runs because she _is_ immune but the person she wants to love is decidedly not.

Yet.

It's possible she's the only one who ever will be. Jessica is used to getting screwed by the universe at this point, and wouldn't that just be another typical moment of her life. But it's also possible that there's a trigger to it, and if she can figure out what it is, figure out how to stop Luke…

God, she never should've slept with him. Should've just let him be, let him have his quiet life, kept him the hell away from all of this. But no, poor impulse control is like half of her charm and well… here she is, two weeks later, facing a slightly more interesting death than she ever expected.

She can stall for a while, at least. She moves fast, just slightly faster, and she's gifted at dodging and rolling and generally _not_ getting her ass handed to her. Little more challenging than usual considering her opponent is mind-controlled, twice her size, and probably has a stronger power than her, but she figures she's got maybe a minute here. Two, if she's lucky. More than enough time.

"Please," she mumbles under her breath. She's not the type to talk to herself under normal circumstances, but this is the opposite of normal and she wants to be heard. "Please, please break through."

She throws filing cabinets, ducks and darts, and tries to focus on the fact that the man she's running from is not himself right now. He's not destructive like this, he's good and kind and probably hates her in whatever part of his mind he's still got access to right now but not the kind of hate that ends in murder. Avoidance, definitely, but the city's big and that won't be a challenge. When this all dies down, if they both live, they'll never see each other again and maybe she'll think of him sometimes when her hands wander at night but that'll be it. She's not hopeful.

"Fight it," she breathes. "Fight it. This isn't you."

She's fairly sure she's never destroyed a building before, but first time for everything. Then outside, and oh look a police car. Plenty of weapons in there, she's pretty sure. Plenty of ways to stop Luke. Unbreakable is one thing, she's seen that in action and it's beautiful, but some sort of blunt trauma to the head is still an option, or maybe…

There's a gun. There's a gun and she hates herself so much but she grabs for it, fingers on the trigger, and she hesitates.

"I don't want to do this," she breathes. "I don't want to-"

It's in that moment that something happens. He recoils, drops to his knees just out of her reach, _breaks_. It looks just enough like her own experience for her to know it's one and the same. Breakthrough. Immunity. It's _possible_ , she knew it.

She stays where she is for a few more moments, still holding the gun, still watching for fear it might just be a temporary lapse. Just because something feels real doesn't mean it is, and-

"Are you okay?"

He's looking up now, staring at her, and she knows she looks like hell but none of that matters right now because a goddamn miracle has just happened right in front of her. "Yeah." Bit bruised and definitely bleeding _somewhere_ , but nothing that feels like a long night in the ER. Totally fine.

"I didn't want to-"

"You don't have to say anything. I _know_." She stands, walks over and wonders if it'd be alright to touch him. (Knows, instinctively, that she shouldn't.) This, she's been through before. It'll be a few days of hell at the very least, not to mention aftershocks, but he's out of the storm now and that's a beginning and-

"Stay here," she murmurs, leaning down and kissing his forehead because that's what people _do_ when they're about to die and they've got the chance. "You can yell at me later, I don't care, I just… I'll be back, okay?"

It takes Jessica exactly two minutes to walk back into the nightclub, fire three shots and permanently end the greatest source of her problems, and walk back out. She doesn't say anything during that time, doesn't even think. Murder doesn't count when psychotic assholes are involved.

She's shaking when she walks out, not entirely sure why but she's used to her body's weird responses. "I did it!" she screams, and she expects no one to hear her let alone care but then she processes that Luke's still standing on the sidewalk, still looking even worse than she does, and maybe she's not alone anymore.

She doesn't help people. She sucks at it, always has. But this time, this time she could try. She's been there and done that and she knows how bad the nights can be, knows how damn lonely and painful the recovery process is and oh she hated it. _Hates_ it, been nearly a year and she's still coming back to herself. But that's still an advantage here, she wants to think, still something that could _help_.

"You can go back to hating me now," she mutters, not daring to make eye contact.

"I don't hate you."

"Bullshit. If you'd never met me, none of this would've happened and-"

"You ended it, Jess. You saved me."

"You broke through on your own."

"Yeah," he shrugs. "But hearing your voice helped."

Later, they'll talk about this. Later, they'll rebuild in her apartment; later, they'll wait out each other's nightmares; later, they'll become friends and then friends who occasionally fuck and then something a lot like soulmates. Later, they'll help each other recover. But none of that matters now. Now, she collapses in his arms because she's not steady on her feet; now, he's strong enough for the both of them.

"You wanna come home with me?" she suggests, hopeful.

"Nowhere else for me to go," he shrugs, and it works like a yes.

Later, they'll figure this shit out. Now, she holds his hand like normal people do as they walk away and for the first time in too many years, she's actually proud of herself. It's a start.


End file.
